


Weighting

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [45]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weighting: As in, "weighting the rope." Any time the rope takes the weight of the climber.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>These hadn’t been the calm, confident Warboys Toast had gotten to know in Council and around Furiosa, boys who were keen to make good impressions and had some idea on how to go about it, in this new Citadel. As she came up the steps and caught sight of them this morning she trailed to a halt. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Weighting

Toast took a deep breath and climbed the last set of steps to the terrace.

She'd joined most of Janey's lessons, enjoyed learning how to fight. It was just little bits of actual technique so far; her body needed conditioning, her mind training to think more calmly when violence was happening. But it had felt good to do something, to know she would have more options next time somebody grabbed her and wouldn't let go.

She heard the boisterous voices of warboys and tried to remember why on earth she'd decided she wanted to be in this lesson. Some of the warboys had asked to be taught too and, unwilling to deny a request for knowledge, the Vuvalini had agreed after some disagreements from others, the result being that Gilly had started to teach a bunch of warboys separately. It had made a lot of sense at the time, and not so much afterward, when Toast had said she'd be joining them. Maybe because she wanted to make sure that whatever knowledge they had, she had it too. Maybe she just wanted to be sure what she was learning could match up to them.

Something like that. Even if it meant she might have to practice _with_ Warboys, which had only sunk in later.

And these hadn’t been the calm, confident Warboys Toast had gotten to know in Council and around Furiosa, boys who were keen to make good impressions and had some idea on how to go about it, in this new Citadel.As she came up the steps and caught sight of them this morning she trailed to a halt.

There had been four of them for the first lesson. Slighter and sometimes shorter than what she'd gotten used to expecting, two of them even barely taller than she was. The youngest had only chest scars, but the other three were heavily scarred up, both decorative and injuries, more than other warboys around their age. She wondered if they'd caught the brunt of violence for being not as strong as the others.

She had quickly discovered that they might be the weakest of the Warboys, they were still conditioned in a way she never had been. Could keep going a lot longer without getting tired. Apparently it started as pups, groups of them running around the lower levels.

"Get em tired enough to sleep easy," Rett had laughed as he told her about it. She wondered if it still happened, and how she hadn't ever seen it.

“We try to keep them out of the way, Imperators tend to get tetchy when bumped into and,” the war boy grimaced, “you tend to not want to get their attention less you’re strong ‘nough.”

Toast wondered at how the war boy culture was so based on status and strength that the younger and the weaker had to be hidden. How that action was simultaneously degrading and yet meant as protection, and yet even those ‘protected’ jostled amongst each other for status and the right to be ‘better protected’.

Even as she watched this morning, one shoved the other hard enough for him to lose his balance. He windmilled back and landed hard on the packed ground, and Toast winced.

This would be lesson five, and there were more warboys now, seven of them. It was a mixed group. A few like Rett and Razor, to whom the Vuvalini might refer to as daughtersons, but Toast had learned to call absolutely nothing but warboys. A few like Kukri who had naturally short or slight builds, lacking the reach or the muscle strength of the bigger warboys. And a few who had been marked by birth or by the Wasteland, had twisted spines or one leg much shorter than the other. They'd been relegated to dunny bucket runners or other support work, but now, with fewer warboys, expected to fight if the Citadel was attacked.

She wondered if they'd never been taught fighting before, or at least not taught in a way they learned anything but being smashed into the dust by bigger, stronger warboys.

This morning they greeted her like always with wary looks, like they still didn't know exactly what to do with her. Called out in greeting, “Tribune Toast.”

After the first lesson, Toast had felt both wary and disconnected from it all. She’d mentioned them shoving and prodding at one another at one point to Kompass after a council meeting and, after he’d checked to see that they weren’t shoving at _her_ , seemed to brush it off.

“But _why_?” She demanded.

“If they were doing that to you, then they don’t respect you,” Kompass replied, “They would be testing you, trying to get on top of you—”

Toast shot him a Look, and Kompass coughed.

“...not like that. Like, getting status on you.”

“So it’s a good thing.” She said flatly.

Kompass shrugged.

“Except they don’t even _try_ when we’re partnered up. I don’t feel like I’m learning.” Toast grumbled, “and it’s like pulling teeth to get them to talk. Unless they’re bragging.”

"From what I hear of your group from Gilly,” Kompass coughed, “They... have to work hard. To be— like everybody else." He scratched at his nose, looked thoughtful. “Except, well, is there still an 'everybody else'? We've got all sorts of people now."

He gestured at the council members chatting with each other as they left the room and Toast had to disagree.

“We’ve _always_ had all sorts.” She scoffed, “They were all just ‘hidden’ away or unacknowledged or not given a choice or any part in the decision making.”

“Mm,” Kompass nodded easily enough, “Listen though, if they give you a hard time come to me and I'll go shake them up.”

And Toast had thought to herself that that was completely not what she wanted or sought. She… She didn't know what she wanted out of the situation, come to think of it. She'd thought to come to this class to make sure the Warboys didn't learn things she didn't, but she hadn't counted on the people she'd see here, the small, the weak, the disabled. They weren't a threat, more self defense knowledge or not. They were vulnerable themselves, seeking a way to shore up their own safety.

They were as much a part of the Citadel as anyone else, and if Toast and her sisters were to be Tribunes of this place then… Then Toast had to find a way to work with them, help them feel as invested in the Citadel as they were to the concept of team and crew.

“Good morning,” she greeted them, and then called them by name. She started warming up by herself and found a couple of the others falling in with her, as they waited together for Gilly.

Maybe it might take awhile for them to warm up to her, maybe even longer for than for her to get her strength and stamina up, but Toast has no way of Knowing, beforehand. She can only _try_ , she can only stand her ground and keep coming to the lessons and maybe eventually it’ll be enough if she stays.

“You know,” Rett mentioned to her casually as they waited, “There’s a running bet that you’re gonna hurl at one point from the work.”

 _They’re… not wrong,_ Toast grimaced, frowning into the middle distance. There had been several close calls during the first few practices, and it still cropped up every so often even though it’d been a couple tendays since they’ve started. But she was damned it she was going to let it stop her.

“Betting rations?” She asked.

“What of it.” Rett replied carefully.

Toast turned to look at him, “Put three rations on ‘Never’.”

Rett crowed in laughter and Kukri and Razor joined him.

“How’re you gonna collect on ‘Never’, lemme ask you!” Razor tossed back.

“Well at some point I’m gonna pass the highest count right?” Toast demanded, “And what’s the pot at this point?”

“Doesn’t matter if you’d never see it, right?”

It’d devolved into further heckling and Toast would be more upset at it if she hadn’t realized that this was maybe the first full conversation she’d had with the war boys in the class.

And that morning Rett actually _worked_ with her on her skills instead of folding before she could tell if she’d gotten the technique right.

“Good job,” Gilly praised them.

 

* * *

 

“Rachet, hey, what’s all this?” Austeyr grumbled a little as Rachet led him down some corridors, “I thought you said we had an important meeting.”

“Yeah,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“The Council room is higher up.”

“Didn’t say it was happening there.” Rachet said, blinking at Austeyr, “You were the one that kept saying the most important talks happened outside of actual meetings.”

“Yeah, but,” the lancer looked shiftily about.

Rachet has no idea what to make of that, something having made Austeyr act weird ever since Ace nearly bleeding out. He thought maybe it was like Furiosa wanting them all near, or at least how that emotion looked someone else. Maybe Aus was heartsick at Ace possibly flaming out? Rachet knew it gave him awful stomach twists to think on it, and was so glad that Furiosa didn’t go back towards her heartsickness and instead turned her own attention outwards and, _fine_ , maybe he was purposefully attempting to rile her up by crawling out the window more than he would have otherwise.

It’s not like his garden couldn’t use a little extra care. He still had a plant or two that might make Ace feel better.

“Anyway, Deka hasn’t been coming up to Council, and she’s the one we need to talk to.”

Rachet could see Austeyr’s gaze turning a little confused.

“Remember? The representative from the Wretched when they were still called that.”

“I thought that woman Des represented them?”

Rachet shrugged, “Des does that now, Deka stopped for some reason, even though she probably knows them better.”

“That seems…”

“Odd, right?” He turned a confused gaze over at Austeyr, “I don’t know, we could ask her? Never thought to before.”

He saw the other war boy turn it over in his head, and that was good, Austeyr always liked puzzling people out. Rachet just tended to get lost with the contradictions and the arbitrary rules, and how things might be simpler just laid out? Like there was this thing that he had a feeling about, and he thought it’d be rude maybe to say it, or, well, Austeyr seemed always tetchy on the subject of what he did or didn’t look like. And Rachet thought, well, guessing really, that it might be interesting seeing Deka and Austeyr next to each other.

It’s a bit like how he likes putting his wrenches in a row, or having washers stacked neatly, the patterns matching up in a way that just felt nice.

Rachet took a step back and to the side, having met up with Deka a moment ago and having ignored the exchange of greetings in order to properly look at them. Both Austeyr and Deka turned enough to look at him, and then they were standing next to each other.

 _It’s nice,_ Rachet felt pleased with himself. Something about that felt right. Their faces matched, or something? Not just the colour but the.. the everything.

He realised they'd stopped talking and were giving him strange looks. _Identical_ strange looks.

"Sorry, just.. had a thought," he said, shaking his head a little. “Hey Deka, why’d you step down from Council? You just… disappeared on us.”

“This Citadel that we’re making,” Austeyr added, “We’re trying to make sure everyone’s _seen_ , Boss is pretty insistent on that and—”

“No one wants to see me, it’s not worth their time,” Deka gave a bitter laugh, “When you’re twisted by life like I have? Too old to have value here as a breeder, and not specialized or strong enough to be invited to work elsewhere?”

“But it’s not just—”

“Your Tendays are coming up, those are the stories you recognize and remember. _That_ is bravery, and I have nothing like that.”

Rachet looked to Austeyr but he just looked back at Deka in mute disbelief.

“Everyone wants to be seen though,” Austeyr insisted.

“Some people want to be left alone.” She retorted, “You talk as if bein’ recognized will do me a favor, it _won’t_. Or as if bein’ remembered will do others a favor, and it _wouldn’t._ ”

Deka seemed to have said her piece and looked at them with her jaw all hard, but body all curled up and weird.

Austeyr opened his mouth and closed it, several times.

“You know,” Rachet said into the silence, getting impatient, “The Boss keeps the belts of crew that doesn’t ever get mentioned at Tenday, ‘cause they’re crew. And Polaris, I mean, Kompass recognized her, and it’s good even if neither of them are really anything to each other.”

“But they’re blood related,” Austeyr pointed out, “that makes it different. It—”

And then the darkskinned war boy glanced at Deka and for some reason seemed to choke on his words. Austeyr startled, a full-body twitch he stifled immediately, and looked at the woman in a different way.

It caused Rachet to rethink on the words. And then blink.

‘ _Blood related’._

_Oh. That explained the faces.  
_

“Does it?” Deka asked softly, jaw stiff, watching Austeyr as he watched her, “Does it make any difference if they don't remember each other? If there's just a little boy who went away to where there would be water and food for him and doesn't remember?When they don’t have any memories built on years and shared struggle?”

“But it started somewhere,” Austeyr replied, staring at her intently now, “Isn’t that how our Tenday’s been changing? Remembering all parts of the story, from all peoples.”

“I am _Wretched,_ ” she cried, moving backwards, “I gave you up for something _better._ I have nothing—”  

“—you have _history_. And I want—” Austeyr insisted, approaching, but suddenly stopped.

She breathed out as he...

He pulled back. “I… I don’t want to pressure you. Don’t.” Austeyr looked at her, suddenly seeming small, “Don’t disappear. Not because of fear of me. I'll leave you alone if you want, could send Rachet as representative to the Council if it was me that was bothering you.”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not all about you,” She snapped, running a slow hand down her face, “You earned a voice there, you’re fine there, and I won’t have you—”

“But if I crowded you out… made you uncomfortable, like the bloodbags—”

“I’m _tired_ _!_ ” She roared at him, and then subsided in coughs, holding her side and looking at him, frustrated. “They’re doing fine without me, I don’t need to be there.” She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and it came back stained.

Austeyr stared at it. “Is that why you haven’t said anything all this while, even now that you’d found me again?

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I think any story you’d choose to share… I think it’d be worth listening to. I’d remember it, because it’d be important to me. I think any advice would be important to us all.”

“Even if I was wearing down?” She asked softly.

“I’d think that’d make it even more important, then.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Rachet cleared his throat loudly and pointed at the hallway, feeling awkward. “I think. Yeah, that’d be probably my cue to. I can grab some food for you? Meet back at the room in an hour? Or whenever.”

He had a feeling they needed to talk things out and Rachet’s, well, not much help with that.

 _What can I help with though? Things being too serious maybe?_ Rachet thought a bit, and then grinned, racing off. _Furiosa woke up this morning in a huff._

_This calls for lizards._

 

* * *

 

Kompass shifted his weight back onto his heels for the fourth time and stared at Polaris at the other end of the room.

He’d kept almost stepping forward and then changing his mind. He was careful not to drop his food and it was nice that was just some protein biscuits and veg, nothing that’ll get cold but. Well. The mess hall felt like an even larger room than normal and Polaris looked like she didn’t want company.

She was sitting there on her own, at a table, sipping carefully at a bowl. Grimacing a bit.

That was strange, maybe a bit alarming, and he found himself walking forward quickly. “Is the water tasting odd? Do we need to check out the pipes here too?”

Polaris looked up at him with a confused expression. “What? Pipes?”

“Your water, it,” Kompass reared back, suddenly unsure, “you made… a face?”

“Ah,” she shifted uncomfortably, “It’s bitter and spicy with herbs. Comfort drink for bloodday cramps. For when we bleed.” She stared at him challenging-like but Kompass thought that just sounded… familiar.

“Huh." He thought about that, looking at the cup. "Does it help during moondarks, or I think that’s what the Boss called them? Against the…" he patted his stomach.

“It helps some,” she stared at him, “You know about those?”

“Hard not to. Gotta know when the Boss ain't feeling so chrome, don't I?" He shrugged, “Though sometimes she just wants to hit things so you schedule in a spar.”

“Oh.” She looked at him like she wanted to ask him something but stopped midway through.

Kompass shifted the food he was holding and wondered if he should ask to sit down or if that would be too much, or if he should have sat down already, or if the whole thing was just rude and he should go because it’s not like he could schedule a spar for her.

“Could…?” he gestured at the seat across from her in what he hoped was a polite way.

"What… yes, sit.” She hunched a little, but it sorta made her shoulders look larger anyways, and Kompass knew what it felt like to have your shoulders do that: he’d always felt defensive.

 _Um_.

"I don't— if you just—" Kompass didn't sit down, not convinced that she wanted him to. He wanted to talk more with her, and looked around the large room seeking inspiration, “I’d hoped we could maybe, I mean you’re the only other person with memories of...”

He stuttered as his breath caught.

Polaris looked up.

“Of…”

She looked at him and he watched as she nodded and mouthed the words he wasn’t quite sure how to say.

_Our Mother._

“I remember this song,” he said, “not all of it, but the shape. Some of the words.”

“We,” his sister looked lost in thought, “we do enjoy songs. Maybe be nice, even, to have more who’d remember how to sing them.”

“Yeah?” A small trickle of hope was sliding down his spine.

“There might be… We’re thinking of hosting some drumming, some song, in a few days.”

"That sounds nice."

“Does it? You would hear music made by us breeders?” She challenged.

“If I was invited, I would go?” Kompass offered carefully, trying not to impose.

She measured him for a long awkward moment. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, maybe he should just—

“I invite you then.” Her shoulders eased, “both then and now,” she waved in front of her.

And he finally breathed out and sat down opposite her.

“Thank you.” He said genuinely, and then stuffed food into his face because his mouth was doing a thing and he wasn’t sure what.

"Hey Kompass! I need a lizard!"

They both whipped their heads towards the shout. Rachet was making his way to their table, waving his good arm over his head as if to make sure they saw him.

“Come on! Austeyr is somewhere else!” He skidded to a stop in front of their table and leaned over panting.

“Does Furiosa know you’re here?” Kompass asked, hoping the other man didn’t pull something.

"She invited Max for a spar and she thinks he might come to quarters tonight but that’s not the point, _this is our chance!_ We gotta get a lizard and—”

Rachet blinked.

Polaris blinked back.

“Oh, hi person-Kompass-is-sitting-with,” Rachet chirruped, with a screwed up twist on his face. It was that look that said Rachet knew he _should_ recognise her, but didn't and felt frustrated about it. Kompass was about to remind him when Rachet continued, “...would you know if they have uncooked lizards today?”

Polaris just raised her eyebrow at Kompass.

He looked at Rachet, who’d seen one of the distro boys enter the mess and darted off towards him, and then Kompass looked back at her and he wasn’t even sure where to start. He shifted on the bench a little and hummed.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds?” Kompass offered weakly.

"I'm still trying to decide how it sounds," Polaris said, with amusement lacing her voice.

"I think it's best if I say nothing else, then."

Rachet cheered from across the room, where he'd gone to talk to the distro boys, and then waved back at him.

“KOMPASS, HEY, LOOK HOW BIG IT IS! IT CAN’T EVEN FIT IN MY MOUTH."

Maybe half the room turned to look at him and Kompass just put his face in his hands, thankful that Max wasn't here to somehow sputter his way into making that a dick joke. Except, surprise, Kompass’ mind was now doing it _for_ him.

"Look at what I got!" he heard Rachet appear next to him a few moments later. "It's huge!"

"That _is_ a big one," Polaris agreed, utterly deadpan. "And I've seen a lot of lizards."

Kompass groaned into his hands. It was one thing to poke at the Wastelander for having dirty thoughts, but now he’s got the man’s voice in his head dumping dirt right into Kompass’ own without his say so. This is _terrible_. He can't even poke fun at Max anymore if this keeps on.

"I wanna save it for later, but I don't think it'll fit in my pocket." Rachet shifted, “don't think I want a dead lizard in my pants.”

“A floppy lizard is no use to anyone,” Polaris agreed with a straight face.

Kompass choked a little on his mealworm paste.

“You could maybe put it in a bag first, tuck the top of the bag under your belt like a pocket? All hidden,” she suggested, amusement clear in her voice.

“That’s,” Rachet lit up, “That’s a brill idea, just chrome! Kompass come on, who is this?”

Although they'd met before, Rachet was never much good with faces. She froze a bit and Kompass just glanced over because they’d never named each other before. Not like this, an introduction.

Polaris looked at him apprehensively, but when he shrugged and mouthed, _May I?,_ she didn’t become more tense. Polaris instead seemed surprised, and pleased.

Did she think he’d be ashamed of her? Kompass thought suddenly; that he wouldn’t name her as family?

So he turned to Rachet and firmly said, “This is Polaris, she’s my sister.” Rachet got that squirmy look about him when he was embarrassed that he’d forgotten, but pasted on a smile.

Polaris however beamed.

He then turned to Polaris, “and this is Rachet, he's crew.”

They nodded at each other, Polaris patting the still-blushing Rachet’s hand and mouthing ‘it’s okay’, and Kompass' insides felt all shine. And at this point, “What are you planning anyway? Might as well let me in on it now..”

“Well so Aus has been saying that…”

 

* * *

 

"He's comin'?" Ace asked

"He said he would," Furiosa said, her excitement quelling a little. Had she pressured him? Had he just agreed to get out of the moment? Or maybe he'd meant it at the time but had changed his mind since. Or maybe he'd just agreed to sleep in her quarters, and it was only her who'd thought she'd invited him for sexing.

Ace sighed from his place on the mattress and held out his arm, offering an embrace. She sank down next to him and tucked herself against his side.

"Bet we can make you feel good anyway," he murmured.

"That was never in doubt," she huffed, and saw his mouth curl up. Felt her own lips up lift in answer.

"Said he was real worried about hurtin' you.”

“Yeah.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “Got the sense of some of that from sparring today. When did he mention this to you?”

“Right after my surgery, he sat with me a bit, hashed some things out.” Ace thought about his words for a bit but then just fanged it. Nothing good came from keeping secrets between them, he'd learned that more than anything, these past forty days. “He seemed twitchy that you, well… let’s just say he seemed _calmed_ at the thought that we’d all beat him up if he looks at you wrong.”

" _What?_ "

"Okay, maybe not for _just_ lookin'."

"Hmm." Furiosa made a sound at him that from anyone else would be a question.

"He got real into the other day, when you were sittin' on Kompass," Ace said idly. “Stayed in the room with his hand on himself even.”

“Wonder what pushed him over to staying.”

"Think he's worried about doin' things _to_ you, not _with_ you, and there weren't any worry about that when you were sittin' on somebody, makin' him whimper."

“Do you mean that all this time the way to get him to stay has been to _sit on him_?”

“Maybe if you were doing the sittin’ yeah.” Ace teased, “ ‘S a good view. Tempt anybody to stick around."

She poked him in the arm, huffing a laugh. "Think it was about a little more than that."

"Maybe. Ferals probably don't know better. Takes 'em a while to learn."

Furiosa shook her head and stared idly for a while up at the ceiling. Ace just drifted a bit, breathing careful but liking the pattern of it, how it felt easier to get air even if it was still a bit sore. Liking that they could have moments like these, calm and lazy.

“He really seemed better with the idea of you guys beating him up?” She piped up after a moment.

“Situationally, yeah, if he fucks up with ya.” Ace couldn’t help the note of confusion from entering his voice. Usually he and Kompass would have to use that as a threat, not a lure. "Told him we wouldn't let him mess up. Seemed to comfort him some."

“I wouldn’t let him mess up either,” Furiosa pointed out.

“Think he likes someone else watching your back,” Ace shrugged, not understanding it completely himself, coming from a feral. But if that isn’t a sign of the man being crew, he didn’t much know what would be.

She nodded, going quiet. "I really hope he comes tonight," she confessed softly and leaned into him.

"So do I," Ace said, petting her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> The interaction between Deka and Austeyr is [somewhat based on the stories behind this](https://www.yahoo.com/parenting/daughter-documents-homeless-dads-life-126018369792.html).


End file.
